


Seven Minutes In Heaven

by writingslack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingslack/pseuds/writingslack
Summary: An Ex-Death Eater and a broken hero sharing seven precious minutes in a wardrobe.





	

The bottle span around itself, while everyone looked at it with total concentration or the amount of concentration young drunk adults could sacrifice for a fast moving object.

We were sitting in a large circle on the ground of the 8th year common room. Music played in the background while people constantly talked about whatever seemed important in their drunken haze, so mostly who would kiss whom or what could be the most embarrassing task to fulfill tonight.

Because on the last day of term just before most of us would part from each other someone had the brilliant idea to play spin the bottle. Probably to make some last minute happy teenage memories. We could all state that we surely had too few of those.

“The two on whom the bottle points at next, have to spent seven minutes in heaven” Pansy had said as she spun the bottle a while ago, ten minutes maybe? How long can a bottle spin? There really was a bit too much firewhiskey in my system at the moment.

I didn’t immediately notice that the thing stopped it’s spinning, but as the room became silent my eyes twitched to the bottle. It was pointing at me. Not for the first time this evening, but the first time everyone stopped their happy banter. Why did they all stop talking? Why was everyone looking at me?

“What does ‘seven minutes in heaven’ mean?” directing the question more at Hermione than at Pansy.

“Wait until your partner is selected.” Hermione laid her hand over mine.  
She obviously knew what my task meant in comparison to me, who had no time to indulge in such childish games at an early age because of that stupid war...

Stop. Do not think about it.

Hermione’s grip on my fingers tightening, noticing my distress as Pansy span the bottle again. 

Anyone who returned to Hogwarts for their 8th year could have been my partner and all off them seemed on edge about who would be selected but as the bottle came to a halt again it pointed at him.

At Draco Malfoy.

I can’t say that I was particularly surprised because when did fate not pair us together or more so against each other.   
What surprised me more was that Draco seemed horrified at the thought of being my partner in whatever these seven minutes included. His eyes almost leaving his skull as he looked at me with obvious horror.

“Okay, I think Draco knows the rules quite well. Do you want to explain it to him?” Draco firmly shook his head at that.  
“Good, Hermione maybe you? I don’t want to distress him.”  
The girl sounded worried.   
What was I about to do to or with Draco?

Hermione leaned over to Pansy, whispering something back and forth between them. The rest of the room resumed their happy and drunken shatter. People lost interest in a broken hero who couldn’t cope and a depressed Ex-Death Eater quite quickly.

Trust me, I’m speaking out of experience. 

Hermione tugged at my hands and Pansy took Draco with her by the time my thoughts decided to resume to reality.

They shoved us in Hermione’s and Pansy’s shared room. The magical gender restriction not really putting up a fight. We were all Adults after all. Mostly consenting too if I would finally learn about what I was supposed to do.

“Okay, so. Seven minutes in heaven means that you will spend 7 minutes in this closet with each other, you will have no other entertainment than yourselfs.”

The look of concern on Hermione’s face screamed that she really didn’t want to do this. Than why didn’t she stop the whole thing? It’s not like we would get killed if we didn’t do it.

As my thoughts went down the line of: “Maybe it would kill us? Magical Spin The Bottle, if you refuse to do it you die.” someone urged us into the tiny closet.

The light illuminated the room only sparsely, Draco and I touching constantly out of lack of space.

There was total silence between the two of us and I honestly thought that wouldn't change in the next 7 minutes.   
We didn't have anything to talk about except of the war and he surely would refuse to talk about that.

But over the next minute or what felt like a minute to me, Draco’s breathing became unusually fast and harsh. I could feel the air passing his lips warm on my forehead.

And suddenly he spoke, his voice sounding more as if he was trapped with an wild animal than with me.

“Pansy?! I can’t….Pansy.”

No answer followed, only the shuffling of feet. They were listening in.

“Are you claustrophobic?” my voice sounded surprisingly steady, more warm and calm than in ages.

“No, I….thoughts, memories.”  
An imprecise description of a panic attack in my opinion.

Not sure if he could answer me at the moment I directed my question to the outside world.  
“Does he have a focus thing or anything?” but to my surprise he answered.  
“Brush."

A brush. Really? I mean if it helps.

While I searched for a brush, stretching my body in awkward angles to reach the shelves fixed to walls of this tiny chaos of a wardrobe Draco started to count through his breathing.

Pansy and Hermione researched a lot in the internet to provide us with information about panic attacks, general anxiety and PTSD in the last months. One reason for them to grow so close to each other. 

Shared pain is half the pain or something.

Finding a brush on the highest shelf, of course don’t make anything easy for the hero ever, I held it out to the young man opposite to me, but he just turned around and pointed at his hair.

Of course, what else do you do with brush.

Brushing Draco’s hair felt more intimate as I thought it would. He continued to count while I tried not to be too fascinated by this white blond soft silk. 

As I brushed his hair, standing on my toes for the whole duration, his breathing calmed and he leaned into the touch.

“Okay?” I asked, not really sure if I should stop or kick down the door this instant to escape this awkward atmosphere.

“Yes, thank you.” He batted my hand away and took the brush, laying it down on the highest shelf again. 

“I think the 7 minutes are up” he directed that to the door again. He didn’t get an answer though, but as he pushed against the wood it opened without reluctants.

He made his way in the room on wobbly legs and took hold of the edge of the table.

“You should sit down.”

As I reached him I took hold of his arm and helped him to Pansy’s bed. He didn’t even struggle one bit with me.  
From enemies, to psychological wrecks, to friends or something a delightful development or not?

“There's a message on the table.” He stated and I found it immediately. 

_You two can stay in our room if you want to sleep or something…_  
Love you   
Pansy and Hermione 

_PS: Please don’t kill each other_

I snorted as read the tiny scrap.  
“They beg us not to kill each other.” I looked to a now lying down Draco.  
He had one of his arms thrown over his eyes.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t right now.” he sounded exhausted just I like I felt.  
So just let myself fall next to him on the bed.

“Do you mind me sleeping here or should I go to Hermione's bed?”  
“No, not really.”

I turned myself to him and laid my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.   
“You don’t have comfort me anymore” his only remark on me intruding his personal space.

“I know, but maybe now I need it.” One of his arms came around my shoulder and hugged me.

It felt warm and comfortable and now that the remains of the adrenalin, that previous happenings provided me with, wore off I felt the drunkenness again.

Maybe this was weird and maybe it shouldn’t be like this but it felt right at the moment and if tomorrow we would both wrench at the idea of cuddling with each other we would just try to forget it like we tried to forget everything.

Sometimes sharing pain makes it not only half of it but vanishes it completely. We of all people have cherish these moments the most.


End file.
